


i wanna be the place you call your home

by notcaycepollard



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Caretaking, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sickfic, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: Sam is pretty sure he’s gonna die.He’s been fucking sick with this fucking cold for two fucking weeks now, and he’s reasonably goddamn certain this is how he’s gonna go.It’s not the cold that’s going to kill him. Bucky’s looked after him so well he’s in no danger of dying on that front. Honestly, Bucky’s the best nurse Sam’s ever had, which is nice and all, of course it’s nice, but he’s still fairly sure he’s gonna die right now, or at least soon, because he is so sexually frustrated he’s just gonna go up in flames.





	

Sam is pretty sure he’s gonna die.

He’s been fucking sick with this fucking cold for _two fucking weeks_ now, and he’s reasonably goddamn certain this is how he’s gonna go.

It’s not the _cold_ that’s going to kill him. Bucky’s looked after him so well he’s in no danger of dying on that front. Kept him tucked up in bed, wrapped blankets solicitously around his shoulders, brought him bottles of water and cups of lemon tea and chicken soup Sam’s pretty sure is made to the same recipe Bucky’s ma used back in the 20s.

“I feel so gross,” Sam had muttered, and Bucky had just passed him tissue after tissue, gently washed away his fever-sweat with a cool washcloth, kissed him softly. “Ugh, don’t, you’ll get sick,” Sam had said, wrinkling his nose, and Bucky had just laughed, kissed him again.

“Super-soldier serum’s gotta be good for _something_ , right. I’ll be just fine. Come here, you want me to put on that show you like?”

“Yeah,” Sam had agreed, too tired to argue about whether he actually likes _Great British Bake Off_ , and curled up against him, head resting on Bucky’s chest so they could watch Netflix together while Bucky stroked the nape of Sam’s neck, his forehead, brushed his thumb in soothing circles against Sam’s temple. Sam’s chest had ached from coughing, and he couldn’t draw a deep breath without gasping for air or coughing until he retched, but Bucky had just held him close, put menthol rub on his chest without even making a face.

Honestly, Bucky’s the best nurse Sam’s ever had, which is nice and all, of course it’s _nice_ , but he’s still fairly sure he’s gonna die right now, or at least soon, because he is so sexually frustrated he’s just gonna go up in flames.

“Come on,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around Bucky from behind and letting his lips brush the nape of Bucky’s neck. “Come _on_ , we could just…”

“You’re not better,” Bucky says, “I _know_ you’re not better, Wilson, what did I say?”

“I’m fine,” Sam argues. Grazes his teeth along the side of Bucky’s neck, smirking when he hears Bucky’s breath hitch, and slides his hands up under the thin cotton of Bucky’s shirt. “I’m so fine, baby, come on, I know you want to.”

“Sam…” Bucky says, sounding breathless, and Sam kisses his neck again, mouths wetly at the skin, nips again the way he knows Bucky likes. Grinds his hips up against Bucky’s ass, lets his hands drift lower until his fingers are sliding into Bucky’s waistband. Then Bucky’s hands are circling his wrists, the metal cool against Sam’s skin, and he sighs theatrically.

“I told you,” he says, voice firm. “I _told_ you, Sam Wilson, not until you’re better.”

“I’m better,” Sam says, as if saying it will make it true, and Bucky laughs a little. Lets Sam’s hands go and turns around, cups Sam’s jaw with his left hand and tilts his face up for a kiss.

“You’re really not better,” he murmurs against Sam’s lips. “Yeah, okay, you’re not on death’s door anymore, but try and tell me you’re a hundred percent well right now.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Sam says, aware he’s both whining and lying, but he can’t help it. Grabs Bucky’s ass and gives it a squeeze just because he can. Bucky grins at him, slow and lazy, amusement shining in the blue of his eyes.

“Sure you are, sweetheart. Go on, take a deep breath for me, would you?”

“ _Look_ ,” Sam snaps, and inhales, exhales, catches the rattle in his chest and cuts himself off before he starts coughing again. Bucky just smirks like he’s proved a point, which, _okay_ , maybe he’s proved a bit of a point, but-

“We have fucked after _missions_ ,” he points out, “missions where I’ve been _shot at_ , okay, I think I can handle myself after one lousy cold.”

“Shot _at_ ,” Bucky says, “Jesus, you think I’d fuck you if you’d been shot? You’re only human, _Christ_ , you’d be on bed rest for weeks and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in, I don’t have ridiculously advanced healing like you assholes,” Sam scowls, “ _only_ _human_ , fuck you.”

“You’re _my_ human,” Bucky tells him, smiling like he’s endeared by how cranky Sam is being right now, and that’s sweeter than it should be, maybe, because Sam smiles back despite himself, leans in for another kiss. Lets it spin out slow and dirty, and then he’s arching up against Bucky, backing him up against the kitchen counter, knowing Bucky can feel how hard he is and knowing Bucky’s just as hard, _god_ , he wants sex so bad. It’s been weeks. He bites at Bucky’s lip, tangles his hands in his hair, moans a little theatrically and a lot desperately and hopes he’s getting the point across.

Bucky _growls_. Just straight-up growls, and fuck, _that’s_ a noise that is unfairly, ridiculously hot, and then he’s sliding his hands under Sam’s thighs, picking him right up with ease.

“ _Yes_ ,” Sam crows in triumph, and Bucky laughs a little, carries him across their apartment to their bedroom.

“You want to fuck this bad, huh?” Bucky says, low, and puts Sam down, shucking off his own clothes without ceremony like it’s just the prelude. Sam reaches for him, and Bucky grabs his hands again, pulls them away. “You want it this bad, baby?”

“Come on, you know I do,” Sam says, “you _know_ I do, fuck,” and Bucky grins very sharp. Begins to strip Sam out of his t-shirt and sweatpants, slow and tender, letting his hands touch what feels like every inch of Sam’s skin as it’s exposed.

“Okay,” he agrees, “yeah, okay. On one condition. You let me look after you, sweetheart, you let me do it right.”

“Sure,” Sam says, “why would I-” and then Bucky’s pulling him down into bed, rolling them both onto their side and sliding up behind him, metal arm wrapped around Sam’s chest. Tugging the blankets up so they’re cosy, and Sam can feel Bucky’s dick still hard where it’s pressed up against his ass, and he rocks back against it. Bucky grabs his hip and holds him still, his grip so firm Sam can’t move.

“Because,” he whispers into Sam’s ear, his breath hot and damp, lips barely brushing Sam’s skin. “I’m taking this slow, baby, so slow you’re not gonna run the risk of getting out of breath. No coughing. I hear your breath pick up and I’ll go even slower, I swear to god, I’m gonna take you apart so gentle and you gotta let me, okay? You just gotta let me do all the work, sweetheart.”

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Sam manages, practically cross-eyed with how turned on he is right now, and Bucky laughs like he’s pleased.

“You think you can let me do that, huh?”

“I mean,” Sam says, “ _yeah_ , if you’d just _get on with it_ ,” and Bucky swats his ass teasingly, reaches over to the bedside table for the lube.

True to his word, Bucky’s so maddeningly slow and careful Sam feels like he’s going to burst out of his skin before Bucky even gets his dick anywhere near him. He doesn’t even finger him for a good fifteen minutes, just spends forever touching Sam’s chest, his side, stroking his palm slow and smooth down Sam’s thigh and back up, kneading his ass, until all of Sam’s muscles feel like they’re melting under Bucky's palm. Then Bucky runs his fingers slick up the cleft of his ass, traces his hole real gentle, and Sam moans a little, pushes back into the touch.

“You’re so goddamn impatient,” Bucky breathes. Sucks a bruise into the curve between Sam’s neck and shoulder, begins to finger him open so slowly Sam feels like he might just go up in smoke. He’s breathing easy just like Bucky wanted, but when Bucky slides in, a long slow stretch, his breath catches in his throat just from how _good_ it is, fuck, _fuck_ , and then Bucky slows down even more like he knows it’s driving Sam crazy.

“Oh my god,” Sam grinds out, arching his hips back as if it’ll get Bucky any deeper into him, “would you just _fuck me_ already,” and Bucky kisses the nape of his neck, grabs him again to keep him held fast.

“Shh,” he whispers, “I told you, you gotta let me take care of you, baby,” and begins to thrust, shallow little movements that send sparks up Sam’s spine. Bucky rubs Sam’s nipple, rolls it between his fingertips and pinches just a little. Reaches around to palm Sam’s dick with his right hand, slides his thumb over the head where it’s slick with precome, and Sam whines, can’t help it, wants more. Tries to roll them over so he’s on his stomach and Bucky can fuck him properly, and Bucky grabs his hip again to keep him still. He’s got thirty pounds of muscle on Sam, easy, holds him in place like it’s nothing, and it shouldn’t be as hot as it is, Sam thinks dazedly. Tilts his head back so he can see Bucky’s face, because _god_.

“Uh uh,” Bucky murmurs, “you’re not gonna be able to breathe if you lie on your stomach, I know how your lungs work.”

“Oh my god,” Sam says, pissily, because he’s so hard it _hurts_ and he just wants to fuck, “were you like this with Steve before the serum too?” and Bucky wrinkles his nose.

“Gross,” he says, “you know me’n Steve weren’t like that,” and Sam grins. He knows; it’s just fun to wind Bucky up about that shit, basically.

“Fine,” he says, “fine, I’m serious, though, you gotta- _please_ , Bucky, you gotta-”

“Yeah, baby, I got you,” Bucky says, voice gravel-rough, and then he’s pulling out, and Sam makes a sad little noise about it, but Bucky’s pushing him onto his back, spreading his legs wide. “Just let me do all the work, huh? No folding yourself in half. No _exerting_ yourself.” That’s- _yeah_ , Sam can do that, Sam can do that just fine; when Bucky pushes back in, deep and hard and thick, Sam’s eyes roll back into his head and he gasps just with how _good_ it is, fuck.

“Not out of breath,” he gets out, “I’m fine, I just- god, you feel good, you feel _so_ good, I want-” and Bucky is wrapping his hand back around Sam’s dick, stroking him in a rhythm that’s just- fuck, _perfect_ with the pace he’s set of fucking him. It’s not hard or fast or rough the way they sometimes do. It’s just, it’s like, god, it’s like _waves_ , Sam thinks, like the ocean, like Bucky is washing over him easy and perfect, gentle and giving and absolutely exactly what he needs.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Bucky tells him fervently, “sweetheart, Jesus, you’re so goddamn beautiful I can’t hardly stand it, you know that?” and Sam shivers, bites his lip, focuses on keeping his breathing even so Bucky won’t stop, don’t stop, _fuck_ don’t stop, right there right _there_ holy shit-

He’s breathing hard when he comes. Can’t even _help_ it, fuck, but he’s not coughing and he feels just fine, he feels beautiful and alive and better than he’s been in weeks, so washed in love and adoration with the way Bucky’s touching him that he actually tears up a little, and then Bucky’s leaning in closer, tangling his hands in Sam’s, kissing the corners of his eyes and his mouth, his cheek. Bucky’s eyes are wide and very, very blue and Sam can see he’s about half a second away from coming and he just- he smiles, stretches up for another kiss, and Bucky’s eyes get even wider.

“I really fucking love you,” Bucky says, shocked like it’s a surprise, and comes so hard Sam feels it like an earthquake rippling through both their bodies. Bucky collapses down onto him for all of about three seconds before he’s shifting off, boneless from orgasm and still so solicitous of Sam’s breathing that Sam’s endeared by the concern, and Sam rolls them both until he’s spread out on top of Bucky instead, Bucky’s dick still mostly hard inside him.

“I told you I was fine,” he says, smug, and Bucky rolls his eyes, reaches down for the covers and drags them up like he’s making sure Sam’s not about to catch a chill. Sam is definitely not about to catch a chill - Bucky always runs so hot that lying on top of him is like lying on a slab of muscle that doubles as a space heater - but the tenderness behind the gesture is unmistakable, and Sam smiles very soft at how much Bucky is trying to take care of him right now, _still_.

“You’re not _fine_ ,” Bucky grumbles, “I did all the work, you asshole, you’re definitely not _fine_ ,” but he’s stroking his fingers down Sam’s spine and Sam just mouths a kiss to Bucky’s collarbone, bites him right in the muscle of his pec just to see the ring of teeth marks bruise and then fade. “Ow, Jesus, fuck, that’s the thanks I get,” Bucky yelps, and Sam bites him again, harder. “ _Oh_ fuck that- _seriously_? That’s how it is? You want to go again?”

“Gotta prove I’m fine, right?” Sam says, half teasing and half serious. He’s too tired for that shit, to be honest. He _is_ only human, as Bucky is so fond of pointing out, and right now he wants to nap on Bucky for like an hour, and then maybe watch some _Bake Off_ , and then maybe make out for three hours until Bucky gives in and goes down on him.

“Well, I’m done,” Bucky tells him, and Sam knows that’s a lie, but it’s a lie meant in Sam’s best interests, so he concedes and wriggles up to kiss Bucky properly.

“Thank you,” he says, “that was- you know that’s what I needed, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can’t get enough of my dick,” Bucky says. Kisses him back, slow and meaningful. “I’m making you chicken soup again for dinner. Just to make sure you’re on the mend.”

“How will I survive this tender care,” Sam says, dry, and Bucky snorts with laughter, pinches Sam’s ass.

“I dunno,” he agrees, “but you’re stuck with it now,” and he is, Sam’s stuck with it, but he didn’t _know_ , is the thing. Didn’t know when he got together with Barnes that he’d be looked after this carefully, that he’d be treated like something precious and tender, that Bucky would look at him with such surprised love every time, and god. _God_. It’s just.

“Yeah,” Sam says, “yeah, that’s just fine,” and it is. It’s just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> you know this really speaks for itself and is not at all related to how I have been sick for two goddamn weeks now  
> not at all  
> why would you think that  
> we just need more Sam Wilson being looked after, is all
> 
> I am [on tumblr!](http://notcaycepollard.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] I Wanna Be the Place You Call Your Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13267254) by [Lucifuge5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/pseuds/Lucifuge5)




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